


Finding Happiness

by heeroluva



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Asexuality, F/M, Fluff, M/M, Multi, Polyamory, Post Reichenbach, Reichenbach Falls
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-13
Updated: 2012-04-13
Packaged: 2017-11-03 13:35:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/381882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heeroluva/pseuds/heeroluva
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock comes home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Finding Happiness

There were no words to express how John felt when a dripping Sherlock appeared at his doorstep one rainy evening over three years after he _died_. Ecstasy, fear, sorrow, rage, those words paled in comparison to the torrent of emotions that had overcome him. John had scrambled back, wide-eyed, knocking against the side-table and ending up on the ground. Mary had rushed forward at the commotion, while Sherlock had remained at the threshold unsure whether to come in, if he was welcome.

For a long moment, John feared he was having a heart attack, the blood rushing through his ears, the world narrowing to a pinpoint as his heart pounded frantically in his chest. After the sound of flesh hitting flesh, it was Mary that tugged Sherlock inside, pushing him towards John. They’d both ended up on their knees on the floor, wrapped around each other overcome by the reality of the situation. Finally, it had been Mary again who had urged them to their feet, and pulled at Sherlock’s drenched clothes.

Sherlock didn’t protest, strangely passive at the attention, and when a blanket was wrapped around him and he was guided towards the couch, he’d sat down, clutching the cloth around him almost protectively. Mary helped John to it as well before disappearing briefly to get some tea, sitting against John’s side when she returned.

There was a space between them and Sherlock, so Mary had urged John over. Sherlock had looked so worn and broken, so cold and alone. Mary had been angry on John’s behalf; she did nothing by halves, never hiding her emotions. But the only time she’d taken it out on Sherlock was that first meeting when she’d slapped him, the imprint standing out starkly against Sherlock’s pale cheek. They hadn’t talked about it that night. They didn’t talk about it for a long time.

But things changed after they did. Before there had been a rising tension as Sherlock ghosted around their flat, somehow moving himself in without an invite, but John hadn’t truly minded. He’d feared that Mary would have a problem with it, but when John had brought it up, Mary had only smiled and laughed, calling him silly. 

It was shortly after that that Sherlock crawled into their bed for the first time one night, fitting himself in at the edge, afraid to touch. John had been confused, unsure, but Mary, always the voice of reason, had taken Sherlock’s hand and rested it on John’s side. Sherlock had been different after, relaxed, more alive, closer to how he’d used to be.

John really hadn’t expected or truly understood Mary’s acceptance, how she took it all so well, opening her heart and life to Sherlock, when John had a hard time understanding it himself. The lack of jealousy on her part was also a small miracle as it had plagued every relationship John had had while living with Sherlock. It made John love her all the more. Like most things related to Sherlock, John didn’t know how to label this, what they’d had. 

There was no need. Three people in a flat could be tight at times and conflicts happened, but they were happy, and that’s all that mattered in the end.


End file.
